


a cry at the final breath

by vaudelin



Series: Tumblr fic [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Watching, Sexual Frustration, casturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-05-31 16:16:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19429585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaudelin/pseuds/vaudelin
Summary: “Um. The, uh … the pipes not—” Dean made a crude gesture with his hand, the motion slipping into him scratching the back of his head. “I mean—do angels even, uh ...”“Not especially,” Castiel said dryly. “I was hoping to be an exception.”





	a cry at the final breath

Castiel held the knob firmly in hand as he shut the door, though its squeaky hinge gave away his position regardless. He turned slowly toward the bathroom sink, which had a mirror above and a toilet beside it, and all of which was crowded with the daily detritus of Sam and Dean’s toiletry bags. Along the far wall was a combination shower and tub, a pale yellow curtain hanging at the ready. The floor tiling was tidy, its grout clean. The style spoke of better than the usual Winchester motel fare, which Castiel appreciated, considering what he was about to attempt to do.

He bent over the tub and turned the faucet, and then held his hand beneath the resulting stream of water, a motion he had observed Dean perform in similar circumstances. Castiel’s vessel sensed the transitory changes in water pressure, the sliding scale of temperature as it increased from cold to hot. After 3.28 seconds, he removed his hand as Dean would have done, and pulled the stopper to shift the water flow from the tap up to the shower head.

The shower curtain caught the resulting spray, the plastic sheet rumbling with a tepid tapping pattern. Steam began to build the longer Castiel listened to the soft pattering against the curtain, the rhythm of which spoke to him like rain.

Fear and curiosity roiled up in Castiel as he thought again of his intentions. He was delaying the inevitable and he knew it. In response, he slid off his trench coat and folded it neatly over one arm, then again until it formed a bundle. He set that aside on the closed toilet lid, and removed his suit jacket in much the same manner.

His fingers slipped upon the first of his shirt buttons, shocking him with their tremble, but his touch grew steadier the longer he persisted. When the shirt was neatly folded and piled upon the coat and jacket, Castiel turned to observe himself in the small, now-cloudy mirror.

Bare chest, lightly haired. Strong, trim muscles. Solid neck, firm jaw. Attractive, as Castiel understood it. He touched at one pectoral, felt the flesh gently give way. He dragged his fingers up his throat, then down and over a nipple, all the while trying to understand the appeal.

Enough biding. Castiel returned to the task at hand, unbuckling his vessel’s belt, the leather hissing through the loops as he tugged it free. He unzipped his pants and pushed them down with his underwear. He then stooped to awkwardly pull off each sock, and then folded and set the whole pile atop the rest of Jimmy’s clothes.

Within the shower, the rising steam had built into a pleasant fog. Castiel pushed back the curtain and planted one foot firmly inside, and then the other. The tub was rough underfoot, abraded to reduce the chance of slipping. With the curtain rattling back into place, Castiel took an additional two steps forward, placing himself solidly within the shower’s spray.

The resulting sensation was … pleasant. A gentle kneading of tiny droplets against his flesh. It was nowhere near the orgasmic sensation Castiel had thought it might be, considering how frequently Dean had moaned whenever he first entered a hot shower. It was a disappointing revelation, though Castiel would shoulder through it. An orgasm was the point of this experience, after all.

With his eyes closed, Castiel tipped his head forward until the shower was pulsing directly onto the crown of his head. He felt his hair flatten against his brow and his temples. Felt warmth building upon his skin. Water sluiced down his brow and collected into a chaotic stream that dribbled from his chin. When he opened his eyes, the blurry sensation of the water within them made him quickly close again.

It was a satisfactory experience, though Castiel preferred when he tipped his head backward and felt the spray against his throat instead of his brow. On his chest was pleasing too, particularly when coupled with gentle sweeps of his hands through the water collecting on his skin. Castiel touched his nipples again and found them stiffening, the flesh growing pebbled and firm. He wanted the touch to make him groan, but unfortunately the feeling seems only physical still.

Daunted but refusing to bow, Castiel continued to drag his hands across his chest, seeking nuance in the medley of sensations. He knew humans tended to imagine erotic scenarios when attempting self-copulation, and from those imaginings they would heighten their own physical pleasure. With his eyes closed, Castiel rubbed his hands across his navel, seeking out known erogenous zones.

With his fingertips brushing the coarse hair trailing down to his genitals, he tried envisioning naked bodies entwined in pleasure. He conjured a memory of a Macedonian couple who had been his charges millennium ago, and who had curated a habit of lavishing their attention on multiple partners. The sighs and slapping flesh of those nights still haunted Castiel’s memories, and though they should have served to rouse his own interest … they did not.

Perhaps his cock would be different. Castiel trailed his fingers down through his pubic hair and gripped the base of his limp cock, giving it a slight squeeze that was more strange than erotic. Squaring himself, he made a circle from his fingers and pumped lightly at his length, but his cock barely stiffened in response.

Castiel tried again, touching delicately at his cockhead, rubbing the sensitive flesh beneath. He felt a twitch at the thought of a particular mouth touching his body, but that was a dangerous thought, and it had to be quickly willed away. He closed his eyes and tried fabricating another, imagining it paired with his own in a few soft moans, but the false nature of the noises brought him no pleasure.

Sighing, Castiel attempted ten minutes more of fruitless fondling before chalking up the experiment as a failure. He shut off the shower and climbed out dripping wet, his body sluicing heavy rivulets along the floor.

The act of undressing should have brought Castiel pleasure; he had seen how couples enjoyed teasing themselves by removing layers. Now faced with the necessity of dressing again, he found himself without patience. Castiel snapped a thought and made himself dry and clothed again, with only the lingering steam of the room betraying what had happened here.

Lost in thought, Castiel stepped out from the bathroom, and was so distracted that he nearly walked into Dean.

Dean, who had left an hour ago with his brother. Dean, who should not have been here.

“Oh,” Castiel said stupidly. “I thought you had left.”

Dean motioned to the mark on his face, a bruise freshly shaped by a fist. “Talked shit, got hit. Came back for the medkit.” He raised a brow at Castiel. “Since when do you need to shower?”

“I wasn’t,” Castiel lied, despite how steam yet clung to his clothes. He amended, “I was only interested in the mechanics of it.”

Dean hmmed slowly, glancing over Castiel. Blessedly, he didn’t call Castiel on his obvious fib. He _was_ looking at Castiel strangely, however, his attention lingering in an unusual way. Castiel wondered whether Dean had overheard more than he should have. The thought brought more heat to Castiel’s face than his own touches had brought to his body.

“I have to go,” Castiel said quickly, and with his wings he fled without awaiting Dean’s reply.

* * *

It was not difficult to masturbate, a fact known by countless species across the planet. This fact, however, did not seem to consider Castiel when determining its certainty. It frustrated him that he was not among those suited to achieving orgasms.

Worse still, it seemed impossible to determine the nuances of human arousal without firsthand knowledge. Over the centuries of being stationed on earth, Castiel had ample opportunities to observe all forms of fornication. Self-copulation was one of the most frequent methods used, and one that required no further parties than Castiel himself. The mechanics were simple: a hand or tool on genitalia, combined with some form of lubrication, should have been enough.

And yet, now that Castiel was attempting the same, this time laying flat on a motel bed, his hands gently roaming his chest down to his navel, the mechanics of masturbation felt decidedly more complicated. The recipients of such touches typically showed some sign of appreciation, and yet all it was to Castiel was touching.

Sighing, Castiel pushed himself up the bedspread, resting his back against the headboard while tuning in to the television. He watched the pornographic imagery play out on the flatscreen, his hand sluggishly touching the open front of his trousers as he attempted to gain arousal. The people caressing each other on-screen seemed impossibly attuned to one another, the mouth of one resulting in another’s sighs; the touch of one leading to their cradling from the other.

Castiel wanted to know what it felt like to be so connected to another person. How humans could have such limited insight into their own minds and bodies, and yet such shallow physical sensations resulted in such deep fonts of joy.

Castiel was made from the stars and sky. As a member of the host he knew about connection, but what he wrought from it was only confirmation of how poorly he fit among his brethren. Perhaps he wasn’t meant to know how it felt to have a home among others. Perhaps he wasn’t meant to experience a touch that could steal his breath away.

Frustrated, Castiel dropped his head back against the headboard. He focused the entirety of his attention on the noises of the television, the insight that these people brought to the human connection. He rubbed his hands along the inside of his thighs, across his navel. Cupped his palm over his struggling length, wishing he had a sinless vision that could make his cock harden.

The door to the motel room rattled, keys turning in a lock. Castiel hastily pulled up his trousers, zipping and fitting his belt buckle back into place. It was only once Dean had stepped inside the room that the moaning television became more than an afterthought.

Dean smirked at the screen, dropping his keys and a takeout bag onto the table. “Dude, you’re watching porn again?” The smirk faded as he removed his coat, replaced by a frown. “Gay porn?”

Castiel glanced back to the television, this time to confirm that the pornography’s participants were indeed all men. “It is educational,” Castiel replied quietly.

Dean snorted, digging into his paper bag. “You’re telling me. Coffee?”

Castiel waved away the offered styrofoam cup. “Where’s Sam?”

“Still searching files.” Dean rolled his eyes and bit into his sandwich. “I got tired and left.”

Dean’s gaze trailed back to the television, then purposefully darted away. He then glanced back to Castiel, at which point his gaze would dart offside again. Castiel watched this pattern repeat itself, a rosy finish hitting Dean’s cheeks each time a particularly noisy moan rattled through the television speakers.

“Um.” Dean cleared his throat, wiping his mouth free of crumbs. “Mind if I turn that off?”

“Oh,” Castiel said. “Go ahead.”

Dean fumbled for the remote, wiping his palms across his jeans before achieving enough grip to hit the power button. He settled back across from Castiel on the opposite bed, his hands flexing atop his thighs.

“Were you just masturbating?” Dean blurted, unable to help himself.

Castiel felt his cheeks heat, reddening to a hue complementary to Dean’s own. He could lie, but he failed to see the point. “Trying and failing to, yes.”

“Um. The, uh … the pipes not—” Dean made a crude gesture with his hand, the motion slipping into him scratching the back of his head. “I mean—do angels even, uh ...”

“Not especially,” Castiel said dryly. “I was hoping to be an exception.”

“Okay. Cool. Yeah.” Dean touched his neck, his fingers slipping down to his collarbones. “D’you need—help?”

Castiel’s eyes widened, to which Dean hastily added, “I mean, I can give you the tip— _tips_ , y’know …” His hand made another complicated motion, which Dean stopped partway through and simply covered his face. He coughed and straightened his back, firming up whatever decision he had just made. “I could be a spotter, just incase, y’know … if you’re doing something freakishly weird.”

Despite the strange feeling beginning to bubble through him, Castiel nodded slowly, fighting to control the inexplicable need to grin. This was what he needed: a human well-versed in the sexual needs Castiel was attempting. Someone who knew better than he did, who could settle once and for all whether this aspect of humanity was to simply be forever out of Castiel’s reach.

“I would like that,” Castiel said, “if it doesn’t trouble you to show me.”

“Wh—no. No, I mean … okay. Yeah. Yeah.” Dean stood, rapidly slapping his hands against his thighs. He motioned for Castiel to move. “Just swing your legs up—yeah. And make room for ...”

Castiel shuffled to the side, leaving room for Dean on the bed beside him. The scrape of Dean’s jeans across the bedspread seemed deafening amid the sudden silence of the room.

Dean kicked off his shoes, dumping them unceremoniously over the side of the bed. He punched the pillow behind him, then crooked his legs and planted his heels firmly into the bedspread. Tapping at Castiel’s leg, Dean gestured for him to follow suit. “Just get your pants down enough to—yeah, like that.”

Castiel removed his belt and unzipped his trousers, matching Dean’s pace as they both shuffled down their underwear. Castiel, having had this part down by rote, chose to watch Dean as he shimmied down his boxers and revealed his cock, which was half-hard already.

Castiel watched Dean’s expression, noting the way he absently licked his lips. It was a moment before Dean caught him staring.

“No looking,” Dean said sharply.

Castiel frowned. “How am I supposed to learn without looking.”

“No eye contact then. Makes it too ...” Dean huffed away thought, shoving aside Castiel’s gaze. “You know the basics, right?” Dean asked, rummaging around the side table for what Castiel presumed was lubricant.

Castiel nodded. “Arouse your genitals into orgasm.”

“What—listen to you, man.” Dean shook his head, seemingly embarrassed. “It’s not just about rubbing your junk, okay? I mean, it _could_ be, but.” Dean huffed again. “It’s a mood. A _mindset_. You gotta be ...”

“What, Dean?” Castiel asked, when Dean did not continue his thought. It felt like Dean held the key to where Castiel was failing, and for some reason Dean was choosing not to share it.

“Just—follow me through this. And no staring.” Dean sank into the pillows stacked behind him, shuffling his body into a more relaxed position. Castiel likewise slouched against the headboard, attempting to open himself up to the experience Dean was about to relay.

“You know where you like to be touched yet?” Dean asked. “Not just your junk, but. Other places.”

Castiel nodded. “I’m familiar.”

“Any of them work for you?”

Castiel shrugged. He was more interested in how Dean’s hands were roaming, moving up over his chest before sliding down beneath the band of his boxers. Castiel mimicked Dean’s motions, touching at his own neck and chest, rubbing at his navel; wrapping a loose fist around his half-formed erection. Castiel’s cock was already harder than he had managed before on his own. He pumped it gently, taken aback by the surge in sensation.

“You’re left-handed?”

Castiel’s gaze snapped to Dean before he remembered himself, quickly looking away. “Not always.”

Dean grunted. Castiel peeked over to Dean’s hands, watching how Dean nimbly touched at his own erection. Dean had slicked his hand with lotion from the side table, his hips gently rocking into the fist squelching around his cock.

Castiel matched the pace he was observing, moving his hand dutifully in time to Dean’s own ministrations, pausing only when Dean tossed the lotion bottle over to Castiel.

“Better with lube,” Dean mumbled, his eyes firmly shut.

Castiel squirted lotion into his hand, then resumed touching himself.

It was a strange liminal space between them, the silence and separation between their bodies broken by the soft noises made from skin on skin. Dean’s pace began to quicken, and Castiel found himself lagging behind, the hardness of his cock seemingly unready for the heat that Dean was bringing his own.

Curious where the difference lay, Castiel asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Dean’s grip stuttered, his wrist twitching as his palm swiped over the head of his cock. “Just stuff.”

“What kind?” Castiel asked. “Nudity?”

“Jesus, Cas—”

“I’m doing the same motions as you,” Castiel continued. “Why are you …”

Castiel trailed off, suspecting that Dean would be uncomfortable with how Castiel would choose to continue. As it was, Dean opened an eye long enough to stare down at Castiel’s fist upon his cock, his gaze followed by an abrupt snort. “That’s your technique, Cas? Really? Can’t say I’m impressed.”

Castiel’s jaw firmed. “It’s what you were doing.”

“At the start, maybe. But it’s not amateur hour anymore.” Dean shimmied down, his legs spreading, his hand working his cock seemingly for show. “Start like this—see what I’m doing with my wrist?”

Castiel sighed, having observed the same gesture performed by ancestors of Dean’s aeons ago. “I am aware of what you’re doing.”

Dean chuckled, his breath thinning as his hand twisted over his shaft. “Knowing and doing are two different things, buddy.”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel duplicated the gesture Dean was suggesting. Dean, however, did not seem to agree.

“Too fast to enjoy it, man. Try waiting ‘til you’re halfway before you—”

“I know, Dean, I—”

“Who’s the expert, me or you? Just try to—”

Castiel listened as best he could with his vessel’s blood pounding, annoyance building in his chest. Despite Castiel’s perfect imitations, Dean continued to insist that Castiel was failing the most basic fellating gestures upon himself. Castiel followed Dean’s instructions to the letter, but he was neither pleased with the results nor in agreement with what Dean was saying.

“Maybe you’re just too new at it,” Dean continued, his own ministrations slowing. “Another time might—”

“I know what I’m doing,” Castiel growled. When Dean seemed insistent on arguing, Castiel reached over and grabbed Dean’s cock instead.

“What—why’re you—” Dean jolted, electric, his throat fluttering as his eyes drifted shut. “Ohh. _Ohhh_ —”

Castiel flicked his wrist, expertly palming Dean’s cock before swiping sharply back down. Dean hissed through his teeth, his body sinking back into the sheets as his hips lifted of their own volition. His gaze swung wildly, locking with Castiel’s.

Emboldened, Castiel swirled his palm on the downward stroke, fingers gently rubbing Dean’s balls before gliding back up the shaft. Dean grabbed roughly at Castiel’s arms, though not to push him away. Instead, Dean seemed beside himself with an unexpected rush of pleasure, his breath coming more quickly, his grip ensuring that Castiel wouldn’t pull away.

Castiel gathered in his palm the fluid leaking from Dean’s cockhead, using it to slick his grip. When another bead took its place, Castiel followed the sudden compulsion to lean down and taste it.

The first touch of his tongue punched a gasp loose from Dean, while the heat of his mouth brought out a further litany. Castiel put centuries of observation into immediate use, moving his hand expertly alongside the bobbing flat of his tongue.

The grip Dean held on him broke alongside Dean’s reservations. His hand pushed roughly into Castiel’s hair, flexing once before forcing him down. Castiel took the pressure readily, opening his jaw and sucking Dean in further. He worked the muscles of his throat, kept his tongue moving in a velvet line. An extra flick and Dean choked on the combined sensations, his grip slackening enough for Castiel to resume his relentless bobbing pace.

Castiel sucked and licked in manners he had learned from the Sumerians; he gave Dean coquettish looks through his lashes, mimicking the heated stares he had seen one Mesopotamian lover perform on his partner during similar intimacies.

Dean, for his part, lay back with jaws slackened, his glazed gaze bright on but unseeing, his chest heaving through rapid breaths.

Seemingly sensing Castiel’s attention, Dean glanced down and met Castiel’s gaze. Without warning, his grip tightened in Castiel’s hair again, this time pulling Castiel off his cock and dragging him bodily upward, tugging until Castiel’s lips clashed sharply against Dean’s.

Dean’s mouth parted quickly, his tongue darting against the seam of Castiel’s lips. Castiel granted him entrance, inviting Dean in with the supple touch he had picked up from a Rejang woman whom had besotted a dozen lovers with her kissing. Dean brushed his other hand against Castiel’s neck, cupping his jaw with his thumb behind Castiel’s ear.

Castiel took the invitation and climbed into Dean’s lap, settling in with his cock rubbing against Dean’s. Dean groaned, touching his forehead to Castiel’s brow. His hand dropped from Castiel’s hair, taking up grip on Castiel’s cock instead.

The strength of his own desire caught him by surprise, so lost was Castiel in what he had been doing to Dean. Somehow his cock had grown so firm it was leaking, the cockhead beading against the thumb Dean was pressing into his slit. Castiel hissed at the sensation, his hips twitching. He let Dean hold him down with his other hand, using Castiel’s weight to counter the circles Dean was rutting with his hips.

“Are you close, baby?” Dean murmured, mouthing at Castiel’s neck, and for his life Castiel had never felt his nerves alight such as in this moment, with Dean’s hands and his mouth upon him, his body beneath Castiel’s supporting him, yet keeping him purposefully from settling.

Castiel gave no answer, choosing instead to seek out Dean’s cheek again, moving lips across stubble to seal their mouths together. He rocked his hips to the pace Dean was moving, setting counterpoint to the rhythmic thrusts Dean made against his buttocks. Castiel wished desperately that their shirts were off, that there were no clothes between them, and though he could easily make it so he doubted Dean would take the surprise without breaking the spell between them.

Too soon Dean’s grip turned painful, grinding Castiel down against his groin as Dean gasped and finally spilled. Castiel eased up his weight, dragging his cock over Dean’s navel. Dean curved a hand along the small of Castiel’s back and urged him to thrust, and so Castiel rubbed against him until he likewise came.

In the comedown, Castiel settled heavily atop Dean, planting his brow against Dean’s neck to avoid his gaze. Castiel didn’t want to think about what would come next. How Dean would find a way to render what they did in terms less meaningful than they were.

But Dean merely ran a limp hand up Castiel’s back, his palm rubbing slow circles as it slid back down. Castiel clutched at Dean’s shirt, afraid of what might follow, but Dean merely held him until Castiel felt foolish for attempting to hide in this way.

“You okay?” Dean said softly, his gaze hooded and heavy.

Castiel nodded, his eyes averted down. His come was gathered in the folds on Dean’s chest.

“This was more than you expected,” Castiel muttered, shifting away. But Dean wrapped his hands around Castiel’s wrist, holding him until Castiel stilled, returning his weight atop Dean.

“Can’t say it was my best lesson, but ...” Dean twitched a smile. “Wouldn’t mind you giving me a second chance. Might learn a thing or two.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Castiel intoned, earning him Dean’s delightful laugh.

Dean touched Castiel’s cheek, his expression turning reverent. Castiel felt a sudden swelling in his chest in answer, the sensation of a connection so strong it stole his breath away.

“Yeah,” Dean said, a soft smile forming. “Guess we’ll have to try again.”

**Author's Note:**

> for the [tumblr prompt](https://vaudelin.tumblr.com/post/184982082803/47-pleaseeee-love-your-writing): _"Were you just masturbating?"_


End file.
